


Fly the Friendly Skies

by that_one_kid



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers fly public airways, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Steve has a few things to learn about the modern world, airport security, tsa, very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 22:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_kid/pseuds/that_one_kid
Summary: Steve encounters the TSA and airport security systems for the first time. He was somewhat underprepared. Don't worry, though, because Natasha's on her way.





	Fly the Friendly Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Very silly and yes, written at an airport. All kudos to the TSA agents who keep us safe.

“So, to maintain our relatively undercover status, we’re flying in domestic,” Coulson said, collecting his files and standing. “Stark, for obvious reasons, you can’t subtly fly domestic. Take the suit and Thor, and meet us there.”

“Where’s Steve?” Tony asked, glancing around the table.

“He went ahead.”

“Did someone warn him about airports?” Natasha asked, and when everyone glanced at her she frowned. “I’ll go catch him up.” She was already out of the room by the time Tony spoke.

“Warn him about what?”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Shoes and jacket in the bin, please,” The TSA agent said in a bored voice, and Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone sharpening. He felt a tap at his elbow and turned to see Natasha behind him, already slipping off her leather jacket.

“Do what he says, Steve,” she said quietly. “Are there any liquids in your bag? Weapons?”

“Yes?” Steve begrudgingly shrugged out of his jacket and bent to untie his shoes. When he stood, he looked with part bemusement and part horror at Natasha. She’d taken off her belt, watch, jacket, sweatshirt, and shoes. It was a peculiar kind of unsettling, seeing a super-spy stripping to a t-shirt in the middle of a public space. Also, he was pretty sure she usually had at least 10 more weapons on her on a normal day.

“What weapons, what liquids, and how much?” Natasha hissed, grabbing his pack off the conveyor belt thing. She opened it, looked inside, and sighed heavily.

“Excuse me?” she called in what Steve was coming to recognize as one of her ‘harmless civilian’ voices. One of the nearby agents turned around. “It’s my boyfriend’s first time flying, and he forgot about the liquid rules,” She pushed at his shoulder playfully. He shrugged, making his best clueless face. These skits generally worked best if he played dumb. “Can we hop out of line for a minute and run some of this stuff back to our friend?” The agent, eyes fixed on her tight-fitting t-shirt, just nodded and waved vaguely at the exit. Steve helped her gather all their stuff and shuffle to a bench outside of security.

“Are we made?” he asked in an undertone, and she shook her head with a flicker of expression he couldn’t quite identify.

“Steve, if you’d gone through security with all of this in your bag you would have been arrested, or at least detained,” she said. She quickly threw her outer layers back on, tossing her backpack easily over one shoulder. “I’m glad I hurried.”

“What?” Steve asked, putting his shoes on. “So the liquid thing is real?” She rolled her eyes, grabbed his stuff, and dragged him out of the airport. They stopped by a simple sedan, which she unlocked and opened.

“Hand me all knives, guns, or metal tools you have in your bag,” she said, yanking a suitcase out and rummaging through the women’s clothes inside. “Coulson will have weapons ready when we arrive. And put your shield in here, we’ll have to check it.” Steve, now thoroughly confused, just did as he was told. She shoved all the weapons into her glovebox, slamming it shut with another flicker of expression. She tucked the shield in under some of the women's clothes and then ripped open a packet, scattering what Steve recognized as modern tampons into the suitcase before closing and locking the case.

“What?” he managed.

“Might deter snooping,” she said with a shrug.

“I will deter snooping,” Steve said, still baffled by the spy’s mysterious behavior.

“You cannot bring your shield on the plane with you,” Natasha said, finally turning from her tasks and meeting his eyes. “You cannot anything with a blade or more than 5 fluid oz of any liquid on the plane, and the liquids have to be sealed in a ziplock bag.” As she said that, she turned away briefly and pulled out a clear bag filled with tiny bottles. She shoved it into Steve’s bag. “There’s some shampoo, soap, toothpaste, and deodorant. Although technically you can bring solid deodorant in any size.” Steve’s eyes were wide. “You’ll have to take that out of your bag when you go through security. What’s left in your bag that I didn’t just put there?”

“Uh, civilian clothes, my laptop, my phone, their chargers,” he said, half expecting her to yank out his clothes and burn them. “A sketchbook and pens?” She let out a sigh of relief.

“That stuff will all be okay. Just take the laptop and liquids out when we go through security.”

“What-“ Steve started, but she was already dragging the suitcase out of the car and locking it.

“No time. We have to check a bag and go through security and our flight leaves in an hour.” She left, practically dragging him behind her.

Twenty minutes later they were back in line at security. Natasha stripped off her outer layers again, gently prompting him to remove his watch as he fumbled with his shoes. He grabbed out the bag of tiny bottles and his laptop, setting them next to his shoes, and she nodded in approval. Then they went through a machine where he had to stand with his hands up in the air while a giant scanner whirred around him. He found the whole experience deeply strange. Once through, redressing and shoving objects back in their bags, Steve started to ask again, but Natasha stopped him with a significant look at a nearby agent. Once they were seated at their gate, waiting for their appropriate boarding group, he turned to her.

“What was that?” he hissed. “Security at _SHIELD_ isn’t even that thorough.”

“It is, you just get fast-tracked because you’re level 7 and Fury likes you,” She whispered bluntly. “That was airport security. I will explain to you why this is the case but it is not something I can explain to someone in their twenties without drawing attention, and also not something particularly wise to discuss in an airport.” Steve nodded.

“Er… do we have to do all that again when we land?” he asked nervously, and her lips twitched. He finally identified the expression she’d been fighting back - her usual wry twist of the mouth when she found something amusing.

“You’re laughing at me,” he objected, letting his voice come across as slightly whiny.

“No,” she objected immediately, putting her hands up. “No, I’m not,” Steve turned to shoot her a playful glare.

“I’m not quite as naive as I was when we started working together,” he chastised her.

“I’m not laughing at you, per se,” Natasha clarified, her voice taking on the exact teasing tone she’d used on their car ride to Zola’s base. “I’m laughing at the fact that you, of all people, nearly punched out a TSA agent for asking you to take off your shoes.”

“And belt!” Steve objected, but he was chuckling now. “Never tell Tony.”

“Are you kidding?” Natasha said with a grin. “That man has never flown on a public jet in his life. We’re going to have to do this whole scene over again if his fortunes ever change.” Steve imagined Tony’s response to a TSA agent asking him to take off his shoes and belt and shuddered.

“It might be worse,” he warned her.

“No. He will not have three handguns, six knives, and an extremely recognizable shield in his carry-on,” Natasha pointed out, and Steve reluctantly admitted she had a point. A man in a hat and a Hawaiian shirt threw himself into the seat next to Natasha, slinging an arm around her shoulders, and Steve actively wondered why the man wasn’t dead before he recognized Clint’s crooked grin.

“Hey, bud!” he said, leaning over Natasha to high five him. “You made it! Coulson owes me ten bucks.”

“I do not,” Coulson said, dumping two backpacks by Clint’s feet and settling in beside him. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a liar.”

“Well-established fact,” Natasha said coolly. Clint passed her a bag of Twizzlers, although Steve wasn’t sure if it was a reward or a bribe to stop her from providing evidence of his lies.

“Group 3!” A voice called over the intercom, and Natasha stood.

“Time to fly the friendly skies,” Clint said as they headed toward the door.


End file.
